


She's an Eggplant Wizard

by Allaine



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-15 18:45:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2239422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allaine/pseuds/Allaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Video games finally end up on Poison Ivy's radar.  The results aren't pretty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There Has to be a Twist

**Author's Note:**

> Assume that Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy are already in an established relationship.

 

While Harley Quinn had always disagreed with the opinions of so-called “psychiatric experts” when they claimed she was mentally ill, she could admit to occasionally seeing some type of huge incongruity that made her suspect she had begun hallucinating. Poison Ivy sitting on a couch, intently playing on a handheld Nintendo 3DS system, was just such an incongruity.

And not just any 3DS – Ivy was playing _hers_.

“Havin’ fun, Red?” Harley asked, rather than simply greeting her. “Fun” wasn’t exactly Red’s area of expertise.

Ivy raised her head and turned to look at Harley. For some reason, she looked scandalized. “Harley, what’s the meaning of this ‘Poke-Man’ game you’ve been playing?”

“It’s pronounced Poke-ee-mon, actually.”

“I don’t care if it’s pronounced _Poke-Me-In-The-Eye_ , Harley. This is what you do with your free time?!”

Harley was slowly beginning to realize that Ivy was upset with her. “Yeah?” she admitted hesitantly.

Ivy slowly put the 3DS down. “When I came out of the greenhouse, you were nowhere to be found.”

“Oh. Sorry I didn’t say I was leaving, you usually don’t want to be – “

“And,” Ivy went on, ignoring her attempt to respond, “I saw this seizure-inducing machine you’re always playing on. I’ve never known much about video games beyond the fact that only men seem to enjoy them – “

“Actually that’s a common miscon – “

“ _But_ ,” Ivy said, rolling right over Harley again, “that never explained why YOU play them.”

Harley took a step back. “Um, Red, are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you, Harley? You only failed to tell me that you’ve been playing a game where the object is to _enslave plant creatures_.”

“It’s not just plants you’re en . . . “ Harley paused, suspecting that argument wouldn’t win her any points with Ivy. “It’s just a game, Ivy.”

“Just a game? _Just a game?!_ Harley, this _game_ of yours requires players to go out into the wild, hunt down living plant-based lifeforms, physically assault them, drug them with paralytics and sedatives, and trap them inside tiny spheres that look _incredibly_ uncomfortable. And then these defenseless lifeforms are forced into combat with each other in some kind of sick, twisted gladiatorial arena!”

Harley hoped Ivy had started a new game. If she had selected one of Harley’s save files, she might have seen her giant plant monster Victreebel, which she’d grown from a little Bellsprout she had, well . . . okay, so she’d beaten it into submission, put it to sleep, and crammed it inside a little ball. It didn’t sound great when you phrased it like that.

Of course, only _Poison Ivy_ would phrase it like that.

“This is proof of exactly what I’d always heard about video games, Harley!” Ivy went on. “Puerile, overly violent time-wasters played by horrid little boys and fat, overgrown nerds who still live in their parents’ basements. Naturally they’d be interested in playing this, this _garbage!_ Who makes this game?! When I find out who created this _Pokemon_ abomination, I’m going to – “  

Ivy was already building a full head of steam about this, Harley could see.  Panicking that Red would target Nintendo in some way and ruin what had been a perfectly good game franchise for her, Harley opened her mouth and said the first thing she could think of that might defuse the situation that was about to blow up in her face.

“It’s not just them, Red.  People have been putting plant creatures like those into video games for years and years now.”

Over the years Harley had been accused by many of being a blabbermouth, a scatterbrain, a nitwit, a chatterbox, and a “bubbleheaded blonde bimbo”.  Naturally she didn’t see it that way.

That being said, within two seconds Harley knew, with an absolute certainty, that this had been the all-time stupidest thing she could have said.  She knew this from the way Red grew almost impossibly still.  Harley had seen this look before.  It was how Red looked when she encountered some new heinous crime against plants, one she’d never even considered before, one whose sheer size and/or monstrosity was so great that she needed a few moments for her brain to comprehend the enormity of it.

Harley had not defused the situation.  She had attached the situation to a nuclear weapon.

“When you say for ‘years’, Harley,” Ivy said in a voice that was way too casual, “what exactly do you mean?”

It was every woman for herself now.  Harley threw the gaming industry under the bus.  “Oh, maybe thirty or so.”

“Mm.  Will you excuse me?”

Ivy calmly went over to her desk, got her laptop, retreated to the greenhouse . . . and screamed for ten minutes straight.

So it was that twelve hours later, Harley found herself helping Ivy purchase every single game console currently on the market, fifteen that weren’t, and games from a list Red had “carefully assembled”.  A list that was longer than a Buick.

So it was that eighteen hours later, Harley was attaching an 8-bit NES system to their TV set.

And so it was that twenty-four hours later, Harley was watching Ivy fight the Level 3 boss of “The Legend of Zelda” with absolute murder in her eyes.

“I don’t even think that’s a plant, Red. It doesn’t look like a plant. Where are its roots?” Harley pointed out.

Ivy paused the game, leafed through a nearby stack of papers, plucked one out, wordlessly handed it to Harley, and unpaused.

Harley looked at the paper. Under the heading _Nintendo Entertainment System_ , she read that the monster was in fact a “Manhandla”, a “large, spinning, man-eating flower with the ability to spit fireballs”. She was dismayed to find the page was crammed with detailed notes about other games, such as Kid Icarus’ Eggplant Wizard (“apparently being touched by an eggplant and given the gift of becoming one with plants is something that needs to be _cured at a hospital???_ ), Mega Man 2’s Wood Man (“man-made machine destroys its prey and steals ability to protect itself with large leaves”), and the Piranha Plant from “ _every Super Mario Brothers game ever made?!_ ”.

“Besides,” Ivy said, “the Peahats were flowers too, and they were flying around and spinning too. So it’s not like we’re dealing with much realism here.”

“Well see, that’s what you should be focused on, Red,” Harley said quickly. “It’s not real! Totally made up. Fantasy bullshit. Who cares if imaginary swordsmen are blowing up fire-breathing plants with bombs?”

Ivy paused the game again and turned a furious glare on Harley.

“Okay, I can see you care,” Harley squeaked.

“This isn’t about fantasy or reality, Harley,” Ivy growled. “This is about children – mostly boys, of _course_ – being taught from a very young age and into adulthood that plants are dangerous, that plants are worthless, that plants are insignificant things who have no right to live. Boys learn from video games that they are rewarded with _money_ when they slaughter plants and loot their mangled corpses! They’re not horrible mass murderers, they’re _heroes_!”

“Is it maybe slightly possible that you’re overthinking this, Red?”

Apparently that question wasn’t even worthy of an answer, because Ivy just snorted and turned back to the game. “Don’t even get me started on this game making you set fire to a _bush_ in order to get the Heart Container underneath. _Life,_ Harley! Slashing and burning bushes grants you longer life!”

Ivy punctuated that with a well-placed bomb on the TV screen that took out the three remaining heads of the plant monster and killed it. “Using high explosives to destroy sentient plant life grants you longer life too,” she said contemptuously as her character picked up yet another Heart Container that had apparently been obtained at the cost of one dead flower.

Harley had never seen someone playing a video game who was so angered by her _own character_ winning. “Then why are you playing?” Harley asked, not for the first time. “What are you getting out of this?”

Ivy glanced at her and smiled coldly. “I’m . . . cataloguing their misdeeds.”

“Cataloguing?”

“Well, I can’t rely on the _Internet_ to tell me what I need to know. The people online are the ones most likely to be brainwashed by these games! I’ll need to play these games for myself so I can determine which the worst offenders are. And then,” she said grimly, “I’ll know who my first targets will be. Which ones will be the first to feel my wrath for forcing me to learn to play these filthy machines.”

Harley bit back a groan. She could be at this for weeks. Where was the Bat when you needed him? “Can’t we just, I don’t know, blow up an oil refinery or something?”

“Later, Harley. I’m finally up to Level 4.”

Sighing, Harley reached over for her 3DS.

“If you even touch that thing, I’m going to break it.”

“What for?!”

“I know about the Victreebel, Harley,” Ivy said darkly.

Harley pulled her hand back.

To be continued...


	2. Such a Supple Wrist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not that Poison Ivy needed more reasons to hate video games . . . but she finds more reasons to hate video games.

Chapter 2

Over the years Harley had learned that when Ivy wanted to spend hours alone with her “babies” in the greenhouse, on most occasions it was best to leave her uninterrupted.  Sometimes she’d be in there for a _really_ long time, and then you just had to put your game face on, straighten your tassels, and intrude.  Otherwise Red would either starve to death, or pass out in the dirt. 

Usually, though, Ivy came out on her own initiative.  Then they could have some fun.  They’d hop in the car, blow something up, get a drink, come back, watch some TV, have sex, and go to sleep at noon.  That was a good time in Harley’s book.

But Ivy wasn’t in with her plants now.  Harley hesitated to even think it, much less say anything out loud, but if you squinted, it kinda looked like she was _neglecting_ the plants.

Instead Ivy was on another one of her marathon gaming sessions.  And Harley was really wary of getting yanked into Red’s new brand of crazy again. 

From what Harley could tell, over the last two weeks – _two weeks!_ – Ivy had systematically played her way through every NES, Genesis, and Super Nintendo game that ever made the mistake of using plant-based enemies.  Harley could have sworn she’d even seen a Turbo Grafx 16 lying discarded to one side, the last time she’d gone into the living room while Ivy was out.  

It looked like she’d finally made it to the original Playstation console, which could maybe be viewed as progress, _if_ you didn’t take into consideration the fact that Red had made the discovery Harley had been dreading.  “Unacceptable!” Ivy had said during their last conversation.  Or rather, Ivy’s last diatribe while Harley listened.  “It seems like every fantasy RPG ever _made_ contains at least one variety of ‘killer’ plant, tree, or flower.  Always!  There’s a very clear message running throughout all these games, Harley.  The message is ‘plants are your enemies, and you will have to destroy them if you want to get ahead in life’.” 

“Uh-huh,” Harley had said.  Red had taken “overthinking things” to a whole new level, but it had proven useless to make her see that.  Like there was any _symbolism_ buried within Chrono Trigger or something.

And since, from what Harley could tell, there were about a _bajillion_ RPGs for Playstations 1, 2 and 3 alone – just wait until she got to the Xbox! – Ivy was probably going to be doing this for the rest of the year. 

“You’d think Red would have a hard time still getting angry the fiftieth time a bunch of pixels stabs a shrub with a dagger, but _nooooo_ ,” she muttered. 

At least she was out here, not in there.  Otherwise Ivy would expect Harley to sit there for hours with some random game manual, telling her what dungeon to enter next if she wanted to find more plants being unfairly made to look evil.  And all the while Ivy would be keeping up a constant stream of invective about – 

“Harley.” 

She nearly jumped out the window.  “Red!” Harley gasped, clutching her heart as she turned around.  “You scared the bejeezus out of me!” 

Ivy didn’t respond at first.  Her skin was a lighter shade of green than usual, probably because she was sitting in front of a TV set twenty hours a day.  She was clutching a Playstation controller in one hand, looking like she wanted to break someone’s head open with it. 

Harley gulped. 

But instead of committing assault with a glorified joystick - yeah, Red might have made a mocking phallic reference about the word "joystick" one or two thousand times - Ivy tossed it aside.  “Why all the men, Harley?  _Why do they all have to be MEN?!_ ” 

“Uhhhh,” Harley said, stalling for time.  Ivy could be blaming men for any of four hundred different things.  She assumed it had something to do with video games, but Red could have meant the designers or the programmers or the players or – 

“The characters!” Ivy snapped.  “It’s always a man!  What the fuck is that about?!” 

Harley scratched her head, trying to decipher this latest tangent Ivy had flown off the handle about.  “There’s lots of girls in these games, Red.  Okay, sure, they’re usually outnumbered by the guys, but – “ 

“Oh yes, the _supporting cast_ ,” Ivy said, sneering.  “There’s always room for some wimpy little _girl_ to stand in the back and cast a few _healing spells_ while the MEN stand between her and the carnivorous tree!  There’s always some _token female_ whose only function is to assist the big, strong _super-schmuck_ who’s actually saving the kingdom!” 

Red wasn’t a feminist.  She thought women were guilty of most of the same crimes as men were.  It might be better to call her an “anti-masculinist”.  If her most deeply-held belief was “plants are superior to people”, then her second-most deeply-held belief was “women suck, but men suck MUCH more”.  So Harley supposed it had only been a matter of time before she got pissed about the lack of strong female representation in video games too. 

She couldn’t tell if this was an improvement or not.  Ivy ranting about something other than atrocities against plants was possibly a good thing.  On the other hand, the number of video games with plant monsters was _vastly_ smaller than the number of games with brawny men shooting a gun while the woman waited to be rescued.  She couldn't possibly play all the Super Mario games _again_ , could she?  

Harley had to do something.  If this kept up for much longer, Ivy could be at this forever.

“You’re absolutely right, Red!” Harley agreed brightly. 

Ivy appeared pleased by the ringing endorsement of her views.  But then she grabbed an apple and a banana from a bowl, and disappeared back into her own personal arcade. 

Harley pressed a hand against her temple.  What the heck was she gonna do?  By now Red should’ve stopped, declared war on every game manufacturer in existence, and bought them two tickets to Japan by now.  She had enough reasons to hate these companies to last three lifetimes!  Why was she still playing? 

She paused.  Poison Ivy . . . it wasn’t possible that deep down, she was beginning to _enjoy_ video games, was she?  Sure, they were making her mad, but then again, Harley had to admit that Ivy kinda _liked_ being angry about stuff. 

Obviously the trick was to make her stop being angry.  Right now the only way Harley was going to do that was if she could find a video game that could accomplish that. 

What were the odds something like THAT was out there? 

Harley grabbed Ivy’s laptop.  She was going to have to do some research of her own.

* * *

 

Without a word, Harley entered the room, hit the POWER button on the Playstation, and started unhooking it. 

“Harley?  Harley, what do you think you’re doing?!” 

She didn’t even dare look at Ivy.  Red was probably building up to a major blow-up and the sight of it might make Harley lose her courage.  And her Pop-Tarts.  Instead she tossed the Playstation aside and began setting up the PS3.  

“Harley, look at me!  _What are you doing?_ I didn’t have a chance to save the game I was playing, now I’m going to have to do that awful game _all over again_!” 

“No, you’re going to play this now,” Harley said, still not looking at her.  She finished setting up the PS3, opened it, and popped in the game she’d purchased an hour ago.  Only then did she turn around. 

Oh yeah, Red looked _pissed_. 

Her attention, fortunately, had turned to the TV screen.  “Mass Effect?” she said dubiously.  “Outer space?  Harley, this is a joke, right?  Granted, I don't believe this made my list, but games like these are just opportunities for players to begin slaughtering plants on _multiple planets_!” 

Harley put her hands on her hips and glared at her.  Ivy looked taken aback.  “Trust me, Red.  Just play the damn game.  You’ll see.” 

Ivy frowned.  “I’m going to be out of order now,” she grumbled.  “I still had a few dozen Playstation games to play through, and I’ll have to come back to them once I’m done here - oh, very well.” 

“Thank you,” Harley said.  She went over, kissed Ivy briefly on the cheek . . . and then unceremoniously fled from the room.

To be concluded . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually written before the whole "gamer gate" thing erupted online. The next chapter, not so much.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a total crackfic idea that came to me a long time ago. I liked the idea of Harley Quinn "arranging" for Ivy to try Pokémon, so that she'd start accumulating all the Grass-type monsters. Then it occurred to me that Ivy might not entirely appreciate how "trainers" go about collecting their Pokémon. So this happened.


End file.
